


Survivorship Bias

by WizardSandwich



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Homemade AU Zine, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28037853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WizardSandwich/pseuds/WizardSandwich
Summary: But things always seemed to go wrong where the Scavengers were involved and the grind of metal against metal cut into the hall.
Relationships: Grimlock & Fulcrum
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31
Collections: HOMEMADE: A Transformers AU Zine





	Survivorship Bias

**Author's Note:**

> this was my piece for the homemade au zine!

The Weak Anthropic Principle went down without warning.

It shook and shuddered under the heat of the planet’s atmosphere and none of them were prepared for it, least of all Fulcrum. He found himself latching onto Grimlock’s side in an attempt to gain stability. It was, first and foremost, because Grimlock was the only thing big enough to hold onto. Spinister was more than a few rooms away.

Grimlock rumbled down at him, his servo coming down to latch onto Fulcrum’s shoulder. “You okay?” Grimlock asked, concerned optics peering down at him.

“I’m fine,” Fulcrum said. Then paused. “I think.”

Grimlock started to say something else, but the W.A.P. _shook,_ interrupting him, and Fulcrum was stumbling again.

He could hear Krok yell something over the sounds of rumbling and clanking, but Fulcrum couldn’t quite process it. The noise was too much. He reached up to cover his audials, but it did nothing to help.

Something fell against Fulcrum’s back and, suddenly, he was pinned. Everything went blacker than oil.

When Fulcrum was aware again, the W.A.P. had stopped shaking. In fact, he thought it stopped moving all together. The normal fritzing sounds of the energon dispenser were suddenly gone and the lights were off entirely.

“Everybody okay?” Krok’s voice echoed through the darkness. A light clicked on, illuminating the parts of the floor that Fulcrum could see.

“Fine,” Grimlock rumbled, just meters away.

“Not dead,” Misfire replied distantly.

Fulcrum wiggled under whatever pinned him down. He couldn’t seem to move, trapped under the weight of it. “I’m stuck.”

Fulcrum heard the sound of pedesteps and the light shone just a bit brighter. “Yeah, you were got real good, loser,” Misfire said. Fulcrum could practically hear the wince in his voice.

“Misfire.” Krok demanded their attention. “Go to the cockpit and make sure Crankcase is okay, then go check on Spinister. Fulcrum, are you hurt anywhere?”

Fulcrum considered it as he heard Misfire move away. “I’m not hurt,” he informed, “so it probably didn’t hit anything important.” He paused, wincing to himself as a new thought came to mind. “Or it did and I can’t feel it.”

Krok’s voice swiftly became steadier and more sure, a tone he had perfected for Fulcrum. “We’ll go with the former.”

“Grimlock can lift it,” Grimlock rumbled. “Strong.”

Fulcrum hummed in acknowledgement. Before Krok could really say anything at all, Fulcrum said, “Go for it, Grimlock.”

It was the kind of explicit permission that he wouldn’t have given anyone before the Scavengers had found him.

There was barely a moment before the whatever-it-was was being pulled off of Fulcrum’s back. He was relieved to be free, but the small part of him that knew anything about first aid bubbled in panic. As far as he knew, he could be bleeding out and—

“You’re fine,” Krok said, likely anticipating and intending to cut off the train of thought before it could pull ahead.

“Oh, good,” Fulcrum said, accepting the servo that had reached for him.

“The ship’s out of commission.” Krok let go of his servo as soon as he knew that Fulcrum was steady. In the darkness, Fulcrum could see Krok’s optics dim. “It’ll be a while before we can take off again.”

Fulcrum felt the alarm and panic rise again, but he tried to push it down. “How long?”

Krok shrugged. “I don’t know. That’ll be a question for Crankcase.”

Fulcrum nodded before realizing that Krok couldn’t really see him. “Got it,” he scrambled to say. “What planet are we even on?”

“Whichever one we were closest to when the engine gave out,” Krok said unhelpfully.

“We should go find the others,” Fulcrum said after a moment of silence. “Who knows if Misfire was even able to make it anywhere.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Krok agreed. “Go with Grimlock to the medibay. I’ll make sure Misfire and Crankcase aren’t stuck in the cockpit.”

“You sure you don’t need anyone to do the heavy lifting?” Fulcrum attempted to joke lightly.

“I’d rather Grimlock stay with you. Just in case you really did damage something,” Krok said.

“Alright,” Fulcrum agreed, unable to really argue with the logic. “Comm me if you need any—oh, the comms are out, aren’t they?”

“We’re not getting anything through these walls without the comm center. Perks of it being a prison ship,” Krok said tiredly. “We’ll meet up here in thirty breems. That should give us enough time to dig through any debris in the way.”

When Fulcrum made his way toward the medibay, Grimlock trailed after him. It was a bit warming to have someone like Grimlock’s loyalty and more than a bit reassuring to be in his presence but Fulcrum tried not to think too hard on it.

They were barely down the hall when the noises started. They echoed through the halls, but ultimately seemed to come from outside the W.A.P. It made Fulcrum tense, stopping in his tracks. He strained to listen. The sounds only seemed to get louder and louder. It was metal grinding against metal.

“Fulcrum,” Grimlock said quietly, concerned and knowing. Quiet intelligence shone in his optics.

“We need to get back to Krok,” Fulcrum said, before remembering Spinister was alone. Probably shooting at walls and eyeing shadows. “We need to get to Spinister first, though.”

Grimlock didn’t argue. He gave a silent nod and they continued down the hall. There was surprisingly little debris, for all that Fulcrum expected there to be some.

He was relieved until the medibay came into sight, blocked by a stubborn twist of metal that impaled the door.

“Frag,” Fulcrum cursed.

Grimlock moved to grab it before Fulcrum could ask. His servos wrapped around the metal and he pulled and tugged. It only seemed to bend and break in his grip, the metal weak. It was probably a piece of the ceiling. Fulcrum looked up—just to confirm his suspicions—and found himself to be correct.

“Grimlock,” Fulcrum said, drawing his attention and stepping up beside him. Grimlock looked up at him. “We need to make sure Spin is even in there first.”

Grimlock nodded. He trusted them far too much, for the ragtag gang of Decepticons that they were.

“Spin?” Fulcrum called, not sure his voice would reach through the walls.

Inside the medibay, he could hear clanging. The signs of movement almost relieved him. Now he just needed to know if Spinister was okay.

“Spin?” he tried again. “It’s me, Fulcrum.”

“How can I be sure?” Spinister asked, voice loud through the door. Suspicion rang clear in his tone.

“I know where you keep the good scalpels,” Fulcrum said, a truth. Spinister always hid them to make sure Misfire didn’t steal them.

Spinister was silent for a moment. “I’m stuck.”

“Yeah, I know. Grimlock’s going to try to get you out,” Fulcrum informed. “Do you know what the noise outside is?”

“No,” Spinister said, his voice full of returning tension, whatever distraction he had from the sounds wearing off. “Think it’s Autobots. I just know I can’t shoot ‘em”

The thought made Fulcrum tense. None of them would be spared if it was. Fulcrum was a walking bomb by himself, but the others would be considered dangerous by virtue of allegiance alone. Who knows what the Autobots thought of Grimlock these days. The Scavengers had found him abandoned in a long empty Autobot base.

“Let’s hope it’s not,” Fulcrum said.

Grimlock didn’t wait for a command to start pulling at the metal again. It was big enough that if they got rid of it, they’d be able to get through the door or Spinister would be able to help Grimlock make the hole bigger.

The metal creaked in his grip, but still didn’t budge. Fulcrum knew they’d be at this for a while. He hoped Krok would come to find them soon enough. The anxiety of not having him and the others in sight would get to him sooner rather than later.

But things always seemed to go wrong where the Scavengers were involved and the grind of metal against metal cut into the hall.

It was loud and Fulcrum had to resist the urge to cover his audials again, instead steeling himself for whatever was about to come. The voices outside the hull were unintelligible, but Fulcrum found comfort in the fact that Grimlock was  _ there _ . If whoever was outside were Autobots, he and Grimlock were Spinister’s only line of defense.

Grimlock rose, coming to his full height. His sword ignited, lighting up the dark hall. He towered over Fulcrum like something out of an old propaganda film, but different. This time he was going to protect Fulcrum.

“Ready?” he asked Grimlock.

Grimlock looked down at him, informing dutifully, “Grimlock will protect.”

Fulcrum didn’t doubt him. Grimlock had never broken a promise to any of them.

“Thank you,” Fulcrum said, venting out in relief.

“Servos up,” came a harsh demand.

Fulcrum looked away from Grimlock, trying to keep his plating from shaking. He refused to be the coward he was before. He had something to protect now.

Before them stood a set of Vehicons, completely unidentifiable and nondescript. It made Fulcrum’s spark tighten. He had vivid memories of how many of them were slaughtered on and off of Clemency.

“No,” Grimlock growled at them.

He lifted his sword in a threat. It seemed to make the Vehicons pause. One reached up to activate their comm, clearly recognizing Grimlock for who and what he was.

Grimlock lunged. The Vehicon was dead before it—they—hit the ground.

“Retreat,” one of them demanded harshly, but they didn’t get the chance to follow through before Grimlock was lunging again.

By the time he had finished, scorch marks littered the walls and everything smelt like burnt metal. Grimlock didn’t even seem phased.

Grimlock’s voice was gentle as it could be when he turned to Fulcrum, “You Fulcrum okay?”

Not a spec of energon decorated either of them and Fulcrum had come out of this fight uninjured. “I’m fine,” Fulcrum said, trying not to look at the floor.

Grimlock nodded in satisfaction, “Should hurry.”

Fulcrum turned back to the door. Spinister had gone uncharacteristically silent.

“Spin?” Fulcrum called.

He strained to hear the shuffling in the medibay. To his relief it was still there. “I heard noises,” Spinister said.

“Grimlock took care of it,” Fulcrum said. “We’ll get you out. Just hold on.”

“I found my laser scalpels,” Spinister informed.

“I doubt they’ll be able to cut through the blast doors.” Though Fulcrum knew that Spinister would try nonetheless. He was oddly stubborn about some things, including ideas that shouldn’t work but sometimes did.

“It’ll work,” Spinister grunted in focus.

Fulcrum sighed and rolled his optics, glad that Spinister couldn’t see it. “Alright. We’ll keep trying on our end.”

Grimlock set to work again, but Fulcrum was on edge. He tried his best to keep an optic out, but he couldn’t help but wonder if someone would try to get in somewhere else. Part of him forgot that the Decepticons would be a threat to Grimlock until they had arrived. As much as he was loyal, Grimlock had done much more for him than the Decepticons ever had. He knew who he cared for more.

It wasn’t silent for long. The clatter of pedesteps and the sounds of bots clattering through the hole in the hull was as obvious as Grimlock on a bad day. Grimlock stopped and tensed, already reaching for his sword again.

“Hello?” a voice echoed off of the walls. It was rough but not threatening, though Fulcrum had long learned to never trust voices. “Hello?” A pause. “Seems as if it’s empty, Optimus.”

Fulcrum’s optics widened. He looked back at Grimlock. He didn’t look at all phased by the situation. “Get behind me,” Grimlock demanded.

Fulcrum stepped behind Grimlock’s hulking frame without question, hiding from sight. It was easy, considering the size difference between them, and Fulcrum was relieved for it. Grimlock’s sword lit once more, bathing the halls in low orange light.

“It appears it is not as empty as we believed, old friend,” Optimus Prime said, though Fulcrum could not see him.

He sounded imposing, confident. Like the kind of bot that Fulcrum would have run from or groveled to a lifetime ago.

“Grimlock,” Prime’s voice was a rumble, “lower your weapon. We mean you no harm.”

Grimlock snarled and it sounded more like a threat than anything else. “Me not worried about Grimlock.”

The mech with Prime scoffed, “What else would you be worried for?”

Fulcrum could hear Grimlock hold back another growl. He adjusted his stance to better cover Fulcrum’s frame.

“I see.” Prime sounded as if he’d come to some sort of revelation. “I promise your companion will come to no harm, no matter what.”

Grimlock’s stance faltered. He turned his helm to look down at Fulcrum. It was his own choice, Fulcrum realized. He resisted shaking, merely nodding.

Before he could think better of it, he stepped out from behind Grimlock.

Optimus Prime was just as imposing as Fulcrum thought he would be, tall and broad. But his face and optics looked kind. As much as Fulcrum was threatened by him, there was something almost disarming about him.

“Hello,” the Prime said to him.

“Hello.” Fulcrum vented deeply and steeled himself again. There was no time for niceties. “One of our crewmate’s is trapped in the medibay and I don’t think the Decepticon’s will welcome us with open arms. Help us or don’t.”

The demand was shaky but it was the best Fulcrum could do with the anxiety building in his chest. They had to get Spinister out. If Optimus Prime was there, then Megatron wasn’t far behind and he had never taken kindly to traitors. The Scavengers were that by default, when Grimlock was one of their priorities.

Prime nodded, unquestioning, “We will help you—”

There was a clang behind Fulcrum. He whipped around to face the pink blur. It crashed into him. “Loser, you’re still alive!”

Fulcrum took a moment to reorientate himself. Then he looked over Misfire’s shoulder at Krok and Crankcase, both of whom were holding blasters to Optimus Prime and his friend’s chests.

“Get away from my crew,” Krok demanded.

“We don’t mean any harm,” Prime tried to soothe. “We merely want to help you.”

“Bah, like we need help from Autobots,” Crankcase sneered.

And as much as Fulcrum loved his crew, he knew what he had to do. “We do.”

Krok looked down at him, confusion showing in his optics, “Fulcrum—”

“It’s either the Autobots or we lose Grimlock.” Fulcrum knew that Krok didn’t like Grimlock, but he hoped they’d at least reached an impasse. “He’s crew.”

Krok stilled, though only for a moment. In the next, he sighed. Defeat entered his posture. He lowered his blaster.

“Fine,” he said, not even looking at the Prime. His optics met Fulcrum’s. A wordless promise passed between them and Fulcrum knew that Krok would protect Grimlock. “We’ll accept your help.”


End file.
